


instead you just love me

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Body Worship, Christianity, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence is a soft snuggly bby who must be protected, Crying, Daddy Kink, Feels, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish, Good Omens References, Guilty Pleasures, Irish Original Percival Graves, Kinktober, M/M, Men Crying, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Overstimulation, Priest Kink, Priest Percival Graves, Religious Conflict, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Yes again, also they're episcopalian, and Percival is a romantic at heart who proposes on the first date, because I don't actually know how to write Catholic church stuff I'm sorry, because it's day 30 of Kinktober and heck it that's why, hipster bookstore worker Credence Barebone, oblivious Credence Barebone, so basically I hit all my usual checkmarks here, soft snuggly feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Credence falls in love with a priest and beats himself up over it every day...until Tina, Theseus, and Newt drop some previously-unheard of but very welcome information into his lap. But will it be enough? Will he have the courage to go after the man he's sure he loves?DAY 30 of KinktoberWritten for prompts: Overstimulation | Feet | Body worship
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	instead you just love me

**Author's Note:**

> _How can you walk that extra mile_   
>  _I see forgiveness in your smile_   
>  _I thought you would scold me_   
>  _Instead you just hold me_   
>  _Thought you would judge me_   
>  _Instead you just love me_   
>  _So sure you'd reject me...wrong again_

For the last few months, Credence has known two things for sure: #1, he’s in very big trouble, because #2, he’s in love with a priest.

The little independent bookstore/coffee shop where he works is his own personal heaven after the emptiness and darkness of the church he once called home. He already loved it, but the reason he’s so willing to spend every weekend night there and pick up extra evening shifts as of late is because of the kind, handsome man with the dark hair and chocolate-caramel eyes who likes to come by for a cup of coffee and quiet place to work. He always comes over to the store and buys whatever books Credence recommends. And he always says _thank you, me lad_ in that lilting Irish accent that turns Credence’s knees to jelly.

He knows there’s no hope. Men of the cloth are forbidden to marry, much less date twink boys who help run hipster bookstores. But oh, God, Credence wishes he could spend every minute in the presence of this beautiful, tender man who treats him so kindly. He does want to go to bed with the man, yes, but more than that—that being in love will not earn him the sentence of hellfire.

 _It’s all right, lad,_ he imagines the priest saying as he strokes Credence’s hair, holds him gently in those strong arms. _It’s all right, darling. God will understand. He made you this way…and you know what, lovely Credence, I’m thinking He made you just for me…_

The fantasy simultaneously soothes him and makes him weep. It will never happen, and it makes his heart ache to think of it…but it feels so good to dream.

~

On a cool autumn evening, the priest comes to the store just after Credence has clocked in and smiles broadly when he sees him. “There’s a lovely sight,” he says. “You always look so surprised to see me. Should I take that as a bad sign? Do you wish I’d leave you alone?”

Credence blushes furiously. “No,” he says too quickly. “No, you—you’re always welcome here.”

Is it his imagination, or does the priest look relieved? “Well. Season being what it is, I’m inclined to ask for something a touch darker tonight. Something to really give this old heart a jolt. What say you, me lad? Got anything like that here?”

“I think I do, yes.” Credence goes over to the section of the bookshop dedicated to crime and suspense novels, and pulls out their lone copy of _Rage._ The story revolves around a school shooting, and most people take one look and shove it back into place. Credence has read it four times. He loves it, finds it much more haunting than Stephen King’s more popular work, and he hates to give it up…but he thinks if the priest likes it, it will be a worthy sacrifice.

He holds his breath as he offers up the book. “It's actually by Stephen King,” he explains. “Richard Bachman was—”

“—an early pen name of his. Yes, I know. Clever boy,” the priest adds with a smile, and Credence feels butterflies materialize in his stomach. “I must say I’m a touch surprised to see this one,” he says, nodding to _Rage._ “Heard it was out of print. I’ve heard of it, but not read it.”

“It’s incredible,” Credence tells him, unable to suppress a little tremor in his voice. “It’s terrifying, but there’s no monsters, it’s just—I don’t like supernatural horror, I mean, I like this kind, it’s—”

He breaks off, not sure what he’s going to say, but the priest seems to understand. “It’s more frightening, isn’t it, when it’s more human.” He takes the book and gives Credence another stop-the-world smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sure it’ll be just the thing. Check me out now, will you?”

 _Oh, believe me. I already have._ Credence blushes a little at the thought and goes to ring up the book. As the man goes and sits down at his usual corner table with his favorite drink (white hot chocolate with cinnamon—Credence’s favorite, too), Credence can’t tear his eyes away.

Enter Theseus Scamander, Champion Meddler. _“Really,_ Credence?” he says, and Credence thanks his lucky stars that he had the decency to wait until the priest was out of earshot. “I hope you don’t look at every customer like that. Not very professional, is it?” He frowns and adds, “He’s too old for you, you know.”

Credence rolls his eyes. “That’s your only concern? Not that he’s, I don’t know, _completely and totally unavailable?”_

Theseus cocks his head, confused. “What do you mean? I’m sure he’s single…”

“What gave it away, the priest collar? Don’t worry,” he says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “I’m not about to corrupt a man of God.”

Theseus frowns again. “You won’t ‘corrupt’ him, Credence. He’s a good man, really, but I do think you’d be better off with someone your own age.”

“Someone who’s not already married to the Church. Yeah, I get it.” Credence turns away as tears fill his eyes. “Can we please talk about something else?”

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “What is it?” Theseus asks, his voice suddenly gentle. “Credence? You really like him, is that it?”

“Leave him alone,” comes a new, welcome voice, and Credence relaxes as Newt pops up in front of him. “What’s the matter, Cree?” Newt tilts Credence’s head up to get a look at him. “Theseus! You’ve made him cry, Tina’s going to kill you—”

“It wasn’t him,” Credence interrupts. He shoots a miserable look over to the corner. “I’m just—don’t listen to me. I’m just sad.”

Tina chooses that moment to come to the register. When she sees the three of them she narrows her eyes as her hands spring to her hips. “All right, who made Credence cry?”

“No one,” Credence hastily tells her, at the same time Newt, having followed his gaze, says, “Reverend Graves, apparently.”

Tina’s eyebrows shoot up. She leans across the counter. “You wanna tell me what happened, sweetie? I’m sure whatever it is we can—”

“You can’t!” Credence bursts out. “It sucks to love someone who can’t love you back but it’s no one’s fault, okay, I just—I just _want_ him,” he finishes miserably.

Newt rests a hand in the small of his back. “Then why don’t you tell him?” he suggests gently. “If you ask him out—”

“Which he should _not_ do,” Theseus cuts in.

“He’s right,” Credence says unhappily. “It’s not like priests are allowed to date—”

“Episcopal priests are,” Tina says slowly, her eyes going wide as she finally understands. “Oh, Credence—is that why you’ve been breaking your heart over him for, what, _months_ now? All this time I thought you were just shy! Damn, I’m sorry—it’s all my fault, I should’ve told you, I thought you knew—”

“Reverend Graves is from the Episcopal church,” Newt informs him. “They don’t put the same restrictions on priests as the Roman Catholics.”

“But he’s still too old for—”

“Shut up Theo,” Tina and Newt say at the exact same time.

Credence, however, has a different concern. “What if he doesn’t like me back?”

Tina smiles a little. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. There’s a reason he only comes to the store on nights you’re here.”

Oh. _Oh._ For the first time in months, Credence lets himself hope.

~

The garden at the church is absolutely beautiful, a cozy, lush courtyard with a tiny pond at the center. Credence wants to stay there, but no—he’s on a mission.

The inside of the church is as beautiful as the courtyard, the stained glass windows and beautifully-crafted altar a sharp contrast to the plain darkness of his childhood home. He looks around for a confessional booth and his heart sinks when he sees none. A bit more prowling around reveals that there is an office behind the chapel. He swallows hard and goes inside.

And there is Father Graves, sitting at his desk and reading his bible, looking every inch the man of God that he is. Tears spring to Credence’s eyes again, and his heart pounds in his chest; how can he do this? How can he even _think—_

Father Graves looks up, sees him, smiles. “Well, hello there, me lad. Wasn’t expecting to see you today, but of course there’s never a bad time to see such a sweet face—” He breaks off mid-sentence when he sees the tears in Credence’s eyes. “What’s wrong, darling? You look pure heartbroken.”

“I think—maybe I am.” He takes a deep breath and folds his hands, eyes cast to the floor. “I have…very definitely sinned, Father. Should I—” Credence has to swallow twice before he can finish, “Should I confess?”

“Oh, darling.” He hears the scrape of a chair and a few quick footsteps, and then Father Graves’ hand is in his hair. “Sweetheart, let me see you,” he coaxes, and a little nervously, Credence looks up. “Darling boy. Look at the state of you. Did you come here for me, or for forgiveness?”

“For your forgiveness,” Credence admits, and the tears well up again. “I’m sorry, I should go.”

“What do you think you’ve done,” the priest gently presses, “that should require, very specifically, _my_ forgiveness?”

Oh, this was a terrible idea— “I like you,” he admits in a whisper. “I have since you came to the store, and—and I—”

“And you thought you’d be punished for it,” Father Graves finishes quietly. “You certainly aren’t the first. Have you been told you’ll be thrown into hell for the crime of desiring another man? No, don’t tell me, I can see it on your face.” He cups Credence’s cheek in his palm. “Did it ever occur to you, me lad, that I wasn’t coming to your shop for the books?”

Credence’s heart picks up. “I—no?” His mind is already going, he thinks a little deliriously, a haze settling over him as he leans into the hand caressing his cheek.

“Oh, I did enjoy the things you suggested I read,” Father Graves informs him seriously. “But I was coming to—well, to court you, as it happens.” Credence watches, astonished, as a sudden smile curls across his handsome face. “I was beginning to think I was barking up the wrong tree, as they say. Either that, or that you were too shy to say a word. But that wasn’t it, was it, Credence?”

Credence’s mouth has gone dry. “How do you know my name?” he manages to rasp out, his heart pounding so loud in his ears he can barely hear his own voice.

“Well, your name tag, for one,” the priest admits with a cheeky smile. “But be honest now, lad…did you really not see that I was trying to get your attention?”

Tears well up in his eyes again and Credence presses his face to the man’s neck. He’s not sure how much more of…whatever this is…he can take. “Please don’t tease me,” he begs. “I can’t handle that.”

“Oh, Credence…” Graves holds him gently, so _very_ gently, and Credence wants to cry even more now, it’s straight out of one of his fantasies. “You lovely, _lovely_ little thing. I could never tease or mock or hurt you, nor could I deny you anything.” He draws back and holds Credence at arm’s length. “You can have whatever your heart desires, darling. Go on, ask me. I promise I won’t say no.”

Credence reaches out to him, tongue darting nervously across his lips. “Can I have a kiss?” he manages. “Or would that—would that be _wrong?”_

“Oh no love. Never wrong,” Graves promises, and draws him back in tenderly. “If it’s a kiss you want, sweetheart, I’ll give you fifty.”

Credence would reply, but he’s just gotten his first taste of heaven and it’s too addictive for him to do anything other than come back for more.

~

It feels like a dream. Like a movie. Like he’s living someone else’s life.

Father Graves— _Percy_ —takes Credence back to his home and gently lays him out in his bed, stripping him from his layers of clothes as carefully as he would bandage a painful wound. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing every patch of skin he uncovers. “Credence, my love, you are truly a gift.”

He’s never been touched like this before. Tina and Newt hug him all the time, and Theseus ruffles his hair and pats him on the back…but no one has ever touched him like _this._ Like a lover. He shivers as Percy’s hands stroke up and down his chest, pausing here and there to tweak his nipples or dip a fingertip into his belly button. He squirms when Percy adds his mouth to the mix, sucking kisses and gentle bites littered across all the most sensitive parts of his skin.

“Oh,” he breathes as Percy delicately worships his neck with tiny little nibbling kisses. “Oh, that’s… _oh.”_ He shivers a little; it feels so good, and he’s afraid of it. “Is this all right?” he manages. “It’s not… _we’re_ not…”

Percy, ever considerate, stops and props himself up over Credence, as if he’s shielding him with his whole body. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to hurt you…” He swallows hard. “Am I…corrupting you?”

Percy, to his credit, does not laugh. “Oh no, darling. Not in the least. I promise, I’ve been ‘corrupted’ a time or two before.” He props himself up on one arm so he can stroke Credence’s hair. “Making love to you won’t hurt my immortal soul, sweetheart, nor will it harm yours. God doesn’t condemn love.”

“But—but in the bible—”

“The bible has a damn sight more in it than I think you’ve been allowed to explore, me lad.” He reaches down and trails his fingertips from Credence’s collarbones down to his waist, a light, teasing touch that makes Credence’s eyes roll up. _“When I found him whom my soul loves, I held him, and would not let him go.”_ He drops his head back to Credence’s neck and kisses a trail from his ear to his shoulder. “Does that sound familiar, love? How about this: _Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away—”_

 _“—for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come,”_ Credence finishes, smiling. He knows that verse. That was as far as he got into the Song of Songs before his courage failed him and he retreated back to the punishing safety of Ecclesiastes.

Percy smiles, he can feel the movement of the man’s lips against his skin. “God doesn’t hate love, Credence. And I promise, no matter what you’ve been told in the past…” He lies down beside Credence and wraps him in a full-body hug, cradling him close to his chest as he finishes, “He doesn’t hate you. In fact, He _loves_ you. And I’ll confess, sweetheart, I’m well on the way to that meself.”

It’s straight out of Credence’s fantasy, and it makes him ache in the best way. Heart thrumming with anticipation, arousal burning low in his belly, Credence tilts his face up to Percy’s. “I feel so good around you, so safe,” he murmurs. “I…I _want_ you, Percy, I have since the moment I saw you.”

Percy rolls him over and lays him out on his back again, one hand resting lightly on his belly. “Then let me make you happy, love. Let me be worth the wait.”

He waits for Credence to nod, ever a gentleman, before he leans in and gives him a soft kiss on the mouth. Credence sighs and almost instantly opens his mouth to the carefully-probing tongue. Percy kisses exactly like he looks like he would: gentle and teasing, steadily building to a messy crescendo. He starts with sweet little kitten-licks against Credence’s lower lip, but once their tongues meet, all bets are off. Credence feels as if he’s being devoured, and it feels _so good._

Percy pulls back and taps the button of Credence’s pants. “May I, love?”

Credence is so dazed with pleasure it takes him a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he says when he remembers how to speak. “Only if you take your clothes off, too.”

Percy gathers up his hands and places them over his shirt. “Be a love and give an old man a hand, yeah?”

Credence can’t hold back another near-hysterical giggle as he plucks out the white priest collar and unbuttons the dark shirt. He licks his lips as Percy’s chest is exposed, mesmerized by the sight of all that bare skin just _there,_ his for the taking. He runs his hands up and over the strong body, fingers trailing through the dusting of gray-streaked chest hair, enjoying the feeling of Percy’s muscles contracting and rippling under his touch.

Percy gives him a moment to explore before he busies himself undoing and removing Credence’s pants. “Sweet lad,” he croons. “May I proceed? I want to show you how it feels to be worshipped.”

“That’s—ooh—that’s very—very sacrilegious of you, Father,” Credence pants, squirming in delight as Percy’s lips map the curve of his hip.

Percy laughs against his skin. “You are worthy of it, my love. But I did tell you not to call me _Father_ while we’re in bed…” He gives Credence a teasing nip and adds, “You know what, though…I don’t think I’d mind _Daddy,_ if you’d like.”

Credence blushes something awful, thankful that Percy’s face is buried in his stomach at the moment. “I could…I could do that. Maybe.”

“Mmm, sound. Let’s try it, then,” Percy says, sounding more than a little amused.

Percy kisses across Credence’s belly, down his hip, along the crease of his thigh. The feeling of Percy’s mouth on the sensitive skin of his thigh is intense on its own, but when his fingertips caress the back of Credence’s knee, his back arches and he jolts as if he’s been electrocuted. _“Daddy!”_ he gasps, and immediately another bolt of arousal flashes through him; something about that feels _right._

Percy laughs and nuzzles the back of Credence’s knee, the bristles of his beard scraping against the soft skin. “If you’ve read _Good Omens,_ and I’m certain you have…you know who you remind me of, sweetheart?” He kisses down Credence’s calf as he goes on, “The angel Aziraphale. You dress like a Victorian gentleman and you just about live in that bookstore. And you’re lovely and kind, but there’s some heat to you, too. Something sharp under that tender exterior.”

Credence squirms again. He’s never been touched like this, _explored_ like this, and he can’t deny he is _extremely_ turned on. “Are you calling me an angel? Really?”

“Yes, lovely, I am.” Percy shifts and Credence looks down to see, with a jolt, that he is literally kneeling at Credence’s feet. “And do you know what we do with angels? We kneel at their feet and worship them.” He leans down and presses a series of quick, gentle kisses to Credence’s foot.

Credence’s heart jumps. He’s never imagined _this._ He tries to speak, to tell Percy _no, don’t, you shouldn’t, I’m not worth it._ But he’s too overwhelmed by what’s happening. Percy kisses the arch of his foot, tongue slipping out just enough to flick at his skin, light, teasing little caresses that would be ticklish if not for the fact that it feels _so good._ He doesn’t even want to parse out why this is turning him on so much, he just knows it _is_ and it’s _good._

Percy nuzzles against the other foot now, dragging his beard up and under the arch, along the sole, and it feels so incredible Credence gasps out a weak plea of _don’t stop, don’t stop._ He’s hard and leaking now, tossing his head in pleasure and thrusting up into nothing, fists gripping handfuls of the sheets. His heart is racing, his mind spinning, the room tilting and blurring around him. Nothing in the world matters anymore except Percy.

And then Percy reaches up and lightly scrapes his nails down the sensitive inside on Credence’s thigh, and at the same time he drags the tip of his tongue up the arch of his foot, and oh—it’s too much, _too much,_ and suddenly the sensations overwhelm Credence and he comes like that, sudden and untouched, trembling all over as pleasure saturates his body like water through a sponge.

His eyes roll back, entire body tense and quivering, and then he feels two strong, warm hands part his thighs. “Beautiful,” Percy murmurs, kneeling between his spread legs. He dips his tongue into the mess all over Credence’s belly and hums in satisfaction. “You taste divine...just as I knew you would.”

“Please, Daddy,” Credence gasps when he can speak again. “Please, more.”

“Oh, I’ll give you more. I’ll give you _everything,_ darling.” Percy continues to clean Credene with his tongue, and it does nothing to quell the arousal burning inside him like wildfire. “So delicious,” he whispers. “I could just eat you all up. Stay here.” He retreats just for a moment. Credence hears the telltale _click_ of a plastic bottle cap. “Now just relax. I promise, this will feel wonderful.”

He kneels between Credence’s thighs again and reaches between his legs to tease his entrance with a slick finger. “Oh,” Credence gasps. “That’s… _oh.”_

“It’ll get better. Just relax and let me pleasure you, sweetheart.” He slides the finger a little further in, circling it a bit on the way, and Credence’s eyes roll up again, mouth parting in a helpless moan as every nerve ending is teased and his body begs for more.

One finger becomes two, and Percy begins to move in and out with some real purpose. Credence feels like his whole being is on fire, like Percy isn’t just finger-fucking him but stimulating his very soul. “Oh God,” he breathes, and then yelps as Percy hits something inside him that makes lights burst behind his closed eyelids.

“There we are,” Percy coos, and teases that spot again, making Credence’s whole body jerk. “Oh, do you like that, lovely? Does that feel good?” He thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, making sure to drag over that spot every time—

Credence is truly seeing stars now, little twinkling lights popping in front of his eyes. The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts, but the thought of stopping, of _not_ chasing the climax he knows is building inside him, doesn’t occur to him. His hips jerk and he keens high in the back of his throat as Percy massages and teases that spot inside him that makes everything glow.

When he comes again it rolls through him in waves, dragging him into an undertow of bliss that makes him feel relaxed and drowsy. But it’s not over yet. Percy only gives him a moment’s reprieve before he dives down and takes the entirety of Credence’s wet, soft cock into his mouth, and then proceeds to tease and rub his prostate again.

Credence outright screams this time, his hips lifting entirely off the bed, his every muscle taught. “I can’t,” he moans. “Oh, I can’t…”

The fingers retreat, the warm mouth is pulled away and he sobs; he wants more, he just doesn’t know if he could handle it. But he hears the rip and snap of a condom being opened and put on, and when Percy aligns their bodies he almost cries out of relief instead. “Easy now,” Percy soothes him. “I’m going to put your legs about my waist and have you hold onto me, all right, darling? And then I’m going to get inside you. Just relax and let it happen.”

Credence tilts his head back submissively, a silent acknowledgment that that’s exactly what he wants to do. And then he feels a long, low moan leave him as Percy breaches him, slowly and gently. The sensation of his body stretching to accommodate Percy’s is…it’s like nothing he’s ever felt. His eyes flutter and drift closed, his lips part again and his breath comes in soft, shallow pants. “So good, Daddy,” he whispers. “Oh, please…please…”

“Sh-h-h. You don’t have to be begging me now, lovely. Anything you want you can have. Sweet thing…so good for me…” Percy sinks deeper into him and Credence whimpers and clutches at his shoulders. “Beautiful lad. I just want you all for meself,” he murmurs tenderly. “Never going to let you go now that I’ve got you, darling. Just be warned.”

He begins to move, and Credence holds on for dear life. “I don’t—I don’t _want_ you to— _ooh_ —to let me go,” he tells Percy. “Want you to—oh _God_ —to hold onto me forever.”

“Oh, you sweet thing—” And Percy takes up a much faster, more intense pace, holding Credence so tightly and thrusting into him so deep Credence thinks he may well burst.

It builds up quickly inside him this time, pleasure surrounding him, drowning him, everything Percy does and says making him feel so good he could cry. He’s still sensitive from his last climax and it doesn’t help at all that Percy’s cock hits his prostate with unerring precision on _every single thrust,_ and his own cock is trapped between their bellies and Percy’s beard keeps rubbing against his neck and oh God, _oh God,_ he’s going to pass out, he can’t take it, it feels so good and it hurts and—

“Are you close again?” Percy croons in his ear, and chooses that moment to nibble his earlobe. Credence whimpers helplessly in reply. “Oh, that’s it, that’s the sound I like to hear, me good, _good_ boy,” Percy hums, and Credence actually sobs as the praise shoots through him like adrenaline.

He’s so overstimulated and turned on he thinks he might die, but when Percy’s mouth latches onto his neck it puts him straight over the edge. He grips Percy tight and keens like an animal, head flung back, nails scraping his lover’s skin with abandon. He knows he’s going to make Percy bleed if he’s not careful, but can’t make himself stop—

 _“Daddy,”_ he shrieks as he comes, his whole body convulsing with pleasure and pain, tears streaming down his face, nails digging deep into Percy’s back. “Oh, Daddy, yes, _fuck_ it hurts, _yes—”_

Percy shudders above him. “Yes, come for me, Credence,” he urges, and through his blurred eyes Credence sees a look of pure bliss come over the man’s face. “Oh, darling. So good,” he sighs, holding himself up with one arm so he can tenderly brush the sweaty hair from Credence’s eyes. “Oh, you should see yourself. You look pure _wrecked,_ lovely. I ought to take a picture.”

He takes his time pulling out, disposing of the condom and cleaning Credence up, comforting him with warm cloths and gentle words of praise—telling him he did so well, he was so good, made Percy so happy. “Thank you,” Credence murmurs sleepily as Percy lays back down with him and pulls him into a protective embrace.

“Anything for you, me lad.” Percy holds him close and kisses the side of his face. “You’re mine now, lovely, you hear me? And I’ll be yours, as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever sounds nice,” Credence says without thinking, too exhausted to even find it in himself to blush at his own forwardness.

“Then forever it is, sweetheart.”

~

That spring, the flower garlands and lily wreaths don’t come down the week after Easter. Everyone whispers about it, wonders why the decorations are still up. They’re equally confused to see the setup of extra tables and chairs in the fellowship hall—the holiday is over, why is there a full buffet being prepared for coffee hour, and are they seeing things or are there _three cakes_ waiting to be cut? And there’s champagne in the fridge, too—really, now that’s just indulgent, everyone knows mimosas are just for Easter!

But they’re all really shocked when the service begins and the bell choir plays the prelude, and there are at least two dozen extra people in addition to their usual small congregation, and…wait, they _know_ Reverend Graves is here, they just saw him outside greeting people, why is the bishop here? For heaven’s sake, Easter was last week, Pentecost isn’t until May, what’s going on here?

It’s not until the rector steps forward with a shy, sweet-faced young man on his arm and kneels before the bishop asking for a blessing, and the bishop begins the service with the words “Dearly beloved,” that they all understand.

A priest can’t officiate his own wedding, after all.


End file.
